The Smuggler's Tale
by Maester Hopfrog
Summary: The arrival of a wilding in their village brings the promise of riches to poor fishermen. Strange treasure lays in a place far to the North, but more than gold waits them at the end of journey. This story takes place sometime between the Red Wedding and the Battle of the Wall.
1. Chapter 1

The following story takes place in the period between the Red Wedding and the Battle of the Wall. As yet, there are no established characters from ASOIAF in it, though that may change. It's my first fanfiction story, and my first chapter. If you like it, I'll write the rest as quickly as I can.

**The Smuggler's Tale – Chapter 1**

Grouter looked nervously upon water. The Bay of Seals swelled ominously, water rising in black hills as if by the leviathans of old tales, intent on swallowing their ship whole. Thankfully, there were no leviathans tonight, nor storms, which was the Mother's mercy. He made a note to say a prayer to her the next time Septon Pol returned the village on his next circuit. Giant waves, icy winds and freezing rain were norm for autumn and they could sink a war galley like a stone, gifting its crew as banquet for the fish, rather than the usual way. The fisher wasn't a particularly faithful man and the Seven had never given him reason to be, but when one gambled, as he did tonight, Grouter believed it never hurt to hedge your bet. The absence of the rotten cogs or skimmers of the Night's Watch was another blessing she had bestowed upon. Despite the relatively calm weather, it seemed only the _Lovely Bess_ graced the bay tonight, her oars pulling the ship slowly but silently past the rocks of the shore. Grasping one of the starboard oars, Grouter turned his eye to the not-quite-distance lights of Eastwatch. If our luck holds, he thought, that'll be all we'll see of the Crows. Autumn was usually the safest time for this; the weather was chill and the Crows would be more mindful of their Wall than the waters beside it, and wildings seldom had boats sturdy enough to cross them safely. They wouldn't even bother patrolling in Winter. The waters would as be deadly as the Wall then. Nevertheless, there were patrol boats and merchant ships which brought Eastwatch food and supplies, as well as poor devils to add to the Watch's numbers. It was for this reason that Marten Barrow had brought the sails down and _Bess_'s crew put their back into the oars. They couldn't risking the white of the sails being sighted and oars had been wrapped to muffle them; an old smuggler's trick. That had been Grouter's idea, as was the whole venture itself. Despite this, even Grouter had to pull his weight. It might've been his scheme, but it was Marten's boat. The _Lovely Bess_ was a fisherman's boat, and Grouter was a fisherman, but now both were bent to a different purpose.

"How far now?" grumbled the Lon Ballard beside him. "Mah bleedin' hands are going to freeze to the damned oar if this keeps up!" That was Ballard, a gruff, bald man 10 years older than Grouter, though no smarter or richer for the difference. He was stout of build had a face with a permanently sour disposition. Marten gave him a stern look as he steered. "Stow your bloody tongue, you twit!" he hissed at Lon, "You want the damned Crows to hear yur whining?" That was unlikely, thought Grouter. Who could hear the man speak above the howling gales and the crash of the waves? He kept his own mouth shut though, and continued to pull at the oar silently even as Lon muttered a river of curses. Marten was the captain, and the captain decided when it was safe enough to raise sails again. Across the deck Marten's son, Raymun, began chattering his teeth. "I-It's the ice off the Wall. It's going freezzzze us! Got lots of magic, and it senses our business. It'll freeze us solid!" Next to him, Willas Pike pulled the oar with a determined expression on his face and pretended not to hear his companion. "Just a bit longer," Grouter told Raymun hopefully, "we'll be able to put up the sail soon and then we can warm ourselves up with that wineskin." Marten gave no remark in support of the notion, but he didn't refute it either and Raymun seem to take comfort in the words. The five of fisherman continued their quiet voyage northward, the torches of Eastwatch casting no shadow upon them. Safely distant and soon to be further still, Grouter mused.

Though it took near an hour, the lights of Eastwatch finally to dimmed to a mere twinkling among the night's sky. We could do it, he thought encouragingly. They were fishermen, all five. Able hands who had worked these waters all they're lives. And he had made the journey before. All it would take is the getting there again, and making the voyage profitable.

A cold spray blew over the vessel and Grouter shivered again. Marten finally answered his silent prayers. "Alright, hoist up!" The crew brought the oars in, then pulled up the sails quickly. They sprang with a pop as cloth caught wind. After the rigging was tied, Marten handed the rudder over to Raymun and retrieved a skin of spiced wine, which the fishermen passed around as they huddled together to fight off the cold. The _Lovely Bess_'s little hull cleaved through icy water, taking them further northward. Everything was going to plan took a swig of the wine, and thought of how it had all come together.

It had all happened due to chance, which had seldom favored Grouter in all his life. Chance was what had born him to his mother, Myra, the wife of a fisherman who later died in a storm while Grouter was still a babe. When he was old enough to be shamed, his mother had abandoned him too. She had taken a cart for Moles Town, leaving him in the care of his uncle, Brer, ostensibly to earn money as a washer woman. That, at least, was what she had told him, though later the other boys of the village would scornfully inform him that the only way women earned money in Moles Town was on their backs. He had thrown stone and fist at his tormentors, but there was nothing he could say that would prove them wrong. No word ever came again of his mother, nor any coin she might've earned. The only money he ever saw was what he earned as a fishermen, plying the waves for cod to sell to the Watch or the local fish market. There was nothing to distinguish his life from the rest of villagers of Thacker's End. Lying on the eastern shore of the New Gift, Thacker's End kneeled to no lord but instead depended on the Black Brothers of the Night's Watch for protection and their living. Few others bothered with the little spot, as there was little to bother. When the sun died every afternoon, he and others would crowd the village's nameless tavern, drinking sour wine that must've been rejected by every port North of King's Landing. There was little other folly to be had, save for gossip and the occasional fight. Grouter had seen his share of those when the inevitable slurs about his mother were flung around, though the smallness of the village meant that the slanders occupied the dual roles of friend and enemy, depending on the day.

Every once in a while they were visited by ships who would stop for fresh water and to take on the salt cod for provisions. Sailors would come ashore to drain the tavern's wine casks, try to fuck the girls, and enrapture the village men with tales of the world beyond the dull pines that surrounded Thacker's End. Knights' tourneys, pirate skirmishes and the spicy kisses of Dornish women filled their heads as the sailors weaved a tapestry of rich adventure between sips of wine. He knew most of it where fibs, of course, but Grouter also knew that some of it had to be real. White Harbor. King's Landing. Braavos and the great cities of East. People had to come from somewhere. Wonders that Grouter and all the other boys could scarcely imagine in lands they could only dream of. The effect of this was that the ship captains would find themselves swarmed with would-be sailors, beggaring themselves in order to work the lines and find a life, any life, away from Thacker's End. Those that succeeded certainly made sure to never come back. Traffic was seldom the other way. Every once in a while you got a sailor fleeing his debts or boy from one of the mountain clans which already had too many mouths to feed but didn't want to condemn him to the Watch. In terms of marriage prospects, the village was equally at a disadvantage. Whenever Septon Pol visited, arrangements were made with him by the families of bachelors, and on his next trip he would bring some unfortunate soul from Last Heart or a semi-reformed slattern from Moles Town. Beggars could not be choosers, though Grouter had chosen to abstain from that choice when his uncle had tried to arrange a wife for him. "Other than the usual business, what's a wife got to offer me?" he scoffed, "Companionship is fine, but not when it drains you of your last copper!" Especially, he thought, when it went slagging off back to Moles Town to whore again after the coppers were all gone. This had happened to Balon Snow, the fishmonger. His errant wife, Taina, might even be talking his mother now. Maybe they were both laughing as they had a draught of ale while Crows sucked on their teats. Balon had Grouter's pity and his scorn. I won't suffer that, he thought to himself, I won't! He would have a way out, with coin to carry him to the far corners of the world. All he needed was a chance. Funny, enough, it was a wife who would provide that very chance.

Few visitors to Thacker End's were unwelcome, but wildlings were definitely among them. Like all the parts of the Gift, they had had to endure raids by the occasional band who came sneaking over the Wall or by boat. Eastwatch was one of the few fortifications along the Wall that was still manned, but on occasion the village would still face the danger of raiders who slipped through, especially this year. It got worse as the Watch's numbers had thinned over the years, and all manner of reeving had taken place. Stolen fish and stolen women was the usual result, though the Watch was pretty good about hunting down the savages before they got too far southward. These days that was usually the way they fled, though in times before they would more likely head back the direction they came, to be protected by the very Wall which kept them out. Now, all their attention was making for warmer lands. The black brothers said this was typical when Winter was on the onset, yet some of the older men of said they couldn't remember the wildlings being so desperate in previous years. Something was driving them southwards, and the settlement was enduring more and more raids. The village had a strong gate and a palisade of sharpened logs, but town guard were too few deter all intruders. All those that they did catch, though, would meet a sharp end via arrowhead or spear. All of them, save for Wild Maggy.

It had been nearly two months ago, when it had it been Grouter's turn for guard duty. A night duty at that, with his torch providing little warmth against the wind. There were eight men total that manned the guard; two were posted on each side of the four sides of the village. Willas had been on duty with him on the South side, his father's bow slung over one shoulder along with a quarrel of boiled leather. He was a fairly decent shot with it, and won the occasional bet at the buttes when he was practicing with other lads. The same could not be said for Grouter, who stuck with the spear loaned him by Morei Drenn, the village smith and headman. The night had been made especially miserable for the lack of wine in the village; the last cask had been drained a week ago and no ship had stopped by in more than a month. So instead of sharing a wineskin they shared gossip and stories. They talked of the sack of the Riverlands, the battle of the Blackwater where a 100,000 men had burned to death, and of Lina Drummer's getting with a bastard. She had claimed the father was some Bravoosi sailor who had used magic to charm her out her clothes in the smokehouse, but most credited it Somon Mill, a village boy who had gotten aboard a cog heading toward White Harbor soon after the news of her pregnancy had spread. "Dumb bitch should've found a woods witch, but Somon was a pretty fellow so she must've tried to snag him in her net," Willas had said with a chuckle. "Her net needs mending now," Grouter had replied, and they both let out barking laughter. Willas was a good fellow like that. Just like Grouter, the bowman wasn't intent on rescuing some poor girl from Moles Town or dying in Thacker's End. One way or another, he told Grouter, he'd get out of village, even if it meant joining the Watch. Grouter was glad that there was someone who understood exactly how he felt. He wasn't staying in the village either, even if the rest of the kingdom was being devastated by war. He was going to grab the rigging of whatever wayward ship strayed into this port, and never look back.

Twilight had fallen on the village after a while. They were ambling on the walkway of the palisades when Willas stopped him suddenly. "Someone's broken into the shrine!" he said in a quiet whisper, pointing to the little ramshackle cabin which contained the village's shrine to the Seven. Grouter brought his spear to the ready while Willas took his bow in hand and set an arrow on the notch. Grouter didn't want to alert the rest of the guard, not yet. It wasn't uncommon for the wildlings to make a distraction on one side of town while another group made off snuck into the other side. Thinking quickly, he whispered to Willas. "Keep your bow ready up here while I scout it out below. And try not to feather me while you're at it!" The other man nodded as Grouter threw his spear into the ground and scrabbled off the walkway. Retrieving it, he readied the weapon and pointed it towards the shrine door. It was ajar, barely noticeable in the moon's dull light. He pulled it open slowly to reveal a wildling crouched in the corner. The thief had broken into a sack of salted cod which the village had put away for the Septon, his hunger apparently so ravenous that he was eating the fish while it was still heavy in preserving salt. The raider had heard him, and turned towards the doorway with a fish held in one hand with a stone knife in the other. It took a moment before he realized that the he was actually a she.

She was gaunt woman with shaggy hair, unruly tangles the color of mouse fur, and covered in patchwork of skins. Instead of boots, her feet covered in rough leather and stuffed with what looked like grass. Keeping the spear point between them, he stepped a little closer into the shrine. "Not closer!" she snapped, and waved the knife in the air for emphasis. Grouter almost laughed. The leveled spear was nearly six feet of fire hardened ash ending in a sharp iron point. He could finish her in one quick thrust, if he wanted to; the brave guard defending his home from a savage raider. Like most men, Grouter had dreamed the life of a fighting man when he was young, perhaps as a knight. When he was a boy, Grouter would wave some fallen stick about like a greatsword, and pretend he was a knight of the King's Guard. This, however, was different. He wasn't Ser Duncan the Tall, nor was the woman, no…a girl now from the closer look of her, some Blackfyre rebel. She had a handsome face; had she grown up in the village she would be even more comely, it those shallow cheeks hadn't missed so many meals. A pitiable creature, perhaps having spent her short life starved and likely as not raped in the wilds beyond the Wall. And now to end it on the iron point of a fisherman's spear. Grouter had never killed before.

Something else caught his eye. The girl was wearing a necklace, almost hidden by the strands of her ratty hair. Even in the pale light of the moon that streaked the shrine's door, it gleamed with beautiful color. It was golden chain, not too thick but thicker than most, queer but elegant patterns wrought in the bands. At center was an emerald the about the size of a river pebble, almost glowing in the milky light. Gold. Gems. The fisherman had never seen anything worth that much in his life! Grouter thought, but where would a wilding have gotten something that valuable? Another thought came to him. With something like that, I could book passage to King's Landing, maybe even Braavos! Thoughts turned one after the other, so consuming his attention that didn't even hear the movement from behind.

"What are doing?" asked Willas, startling Grouter so much that he nearly jumped out of his skin as turned to face the fellow guard. The wild girl made a move to run past while he was distracted, but Grouter grabbed a hold of her and shoved her back into the shrine, nearly knocking a woven seven-pointed star off the wall. Grouter scolded him. "You're supposed to be covering me!" His companion shrugged. "I can't do that if you're out of sight." He then turned his attention to the girl, his eyes agog. "A wildling? And she's a pretty one to boot!" he said with a smile. "That's a shame. We're at a loss for pretty girls around here. Oh well, you better get done with quick."

A look of panic crossed the girl's face. "Please," she pleaded, her eyes losing the fire that a minute ago was ready to cut Grouter's throat. "I was just hungry. I'll not take more. Let me leave and I'll make for it South. You'll never see my face again!"

"Aye. Once Grouter's done stickin' ya we won't see that face of yours again, pretty or not." Grouter, however, did not stick her. Though his point was at the ready, his eyes remained on the necklace. It hypnotized him like a hedge wizard's charm, the green glow seeming almost to ooze out of it. The question he had asked himself continued to turn in his mind: How did a wildling come by such wealth?

"That necklace there," he finally spoke, "who did you steal that from?" The girl grasped the little trinket, shuttering the green glow within her left fist while the other kept the knife at ready. "I didn't steal it!" she protested. "You want it? Let me go and I'll give it to you!" she offered. Willas let out a guffaw of disbelief. "Found my ass! Who did you cut that off of, eh? Some stranded captain? A lost knight? Or would you have us believe it was gift from your lord father?" At this he let out another chuckle, but Grouter's face was made of stone, his eyes never leaving the necklace. Its beauty was glamour upon him.

She shook her head. "I found it. My brother and our folk. We found it out in the ruins. Nobody there to steal all that shiny from. It was all just lying there in the silent place!"

Grouter's curiosity peaked, and he gestured with the spear point towards the necklace. "Give it here!" he demanded. The girl's eyes were fearful but defiant. The object was the only thing she had to bargain with. "You gonna me stab after?" He considered it a moment. It be simple to kill her now and take the necklace. He'd have to share it Willas, but it was still probably worth enough for the both of them to get passage on the next visiting ship, at least as far as King's Landing.

What after, he pondered? After they got to the capital, what would they do for a living? The voyage would leave them with little coin, he knew. There were so many ships in King's Landing. Surely, there would be one who'd need another hand onboard, he thought. And yet doubt crept in. What've they've been burned and there were no ships to work? Or what if they didn't need sailors? Grouter recalled how one sailor, a man from the White Knife, told him that King's Landing had become overstuffed with refugees. A sea of hungry mouths, all willing to work like a slave just for a crust of bread and water. If that were true, ship captains would have all the hands they would ever need. He and Willas would have to work as fishermen again or, worse, they might end up as beggars if even that work was taken.

She said she found it, he repeated in to himself. Time slowed and the words turned over in his mind, again and again like a water wheel. They found it. All that shiny. So there was more! And she knew where it could be found! Grouter considered his options carefully. If the rest of the village had found out that he let a wildling go, he'd be forced to take the Black and end his days freezing on a block of ice. He dreaded the black but the green entranced him, spoke to him. There's more it said, much more. If one necklace can by you freedom, what would three or five get you? Or ten! A cabin of his own for the voyage, the finest whores when he got to King's Landing, and later a share of a merchant's ship. He could work the sails, see the world, and all the while his share of the cargo would be making him rich. A wife to keep his hearth and bed warm in the meantime and someday perhaps a son. Grouter could imagine bouncing him on his knee while he dazzled the boy with tales of how his father had come to fortune. When he got too old for seafaring, he'd be one of the old men at the pub, smoking a pie and drinking wine by a fire while laughter and song was all about him. It was all there. His opportunity. His chance!

"Aye," he said at last, raising the spearhead away from the girl, "You give that here, and I'll spare your life and more. You do as I say, and I'll help you get all the way to Dorne, if you like." The girl was taken aback by this additional offer, uncertainty creeping over her face, but finally she put away the blade, and handed him the necklace.

Willas gave him a look of shock as the other turned over the treasure over in his hand. He couldn't look more surprised if Grouter had said he was the trueborn heir to the Iron Throne. "Have you mad? Morei will skewer you himself for this!" Looking at the gleaming jewel one last time, he studied it now. It was elegantly crafted. The jewel, about the size of his finger tip, was set in the silver mouth of a fish. At least, it looked like a fish, though Grouter had never seen one so strange in all the years he had worked the waves. The top of the head resembled an eel, but the jawline was one that no eel he knew of ever bore. And ears! Why did it have ears? It had to be the work of some mad artisan, he thought, so this would not diminish its worth. Grouter tucked it safely into a pocket of his woolen tunic. "Morei isn't going to find about this," he said, turning to look at his friend, a smile springing to his face. "I've got a little plan," he continued, struggling to contain the excitement in his voice. "A plan?" Willas was incredulous. Grouter nodded. "Aye, one that'll make us a rich as a Lannister!" He then turned back to the girl, who had put away the rest of the fish she had been eating and was now licking the salt of from her fingers.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Maggy," she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Smuggler's Tale, Chapter 2.**

Morei Drenn cast an incredulous eye at the sight of before him. The girl was dressed in rough-spun wool donated by Lorna Bram, the tavern owner's wife. It had belonged to Lorna's daughter when she was just three and ten years; it should not have fit a girl of twenty so easily. She was so skinny though, a starveling with tangled hair filthy from her ordeal.

"You say your Da was from White Harbor? What was he taking so far North?" he asked. It was one question among many that Morei had for the girl. Both headman and mouthpiece for the village that day, Morei seemed to echo the silent questions that rest of the village had, as if their minds acted as one while they all crowded around her. Most of the village was crammed into the redoubt that served as the town's last line of defense. A crude structure of logs and earthen work, it was nevertheless the biggest structure within the village's palisade walls, though still not giving much room to the curious crowd within. At least the press of bodies warmed it up inside, thought Grouter. A welcome respite from the chill air of that night.

After the wildling had agreed to obey them, Grouter had sneaked Maggy back to his uncle's boat before the end of the watch, while Willas looked over their posting. He had hid Maggy in the little cabin in the bow that night, along some more salt cod and furs to keeping her from freezing. The space was small but the girl was not so big, nor was she liable to complain. Compared to other places she had stayed, Maggy had told them, the _Merry Mermaid_ was the wildlings' version of a palace. Grouter also brought her some good cheese and bread, the promise of which had won first won her obedience.

Maggy nodded her head in answer to Morei's question. "We was takin' some Crows up to the Wall. I mean, they were to be Crows...till the ship starting sinking." If Grouter could've winked at Maggy without getting caught, he would've. He was standing in the front of the crowd, just to the left of Maggy while Morei held court, sitting on an empty barrel as he probed at Maggy's story. They had practiced the story for long hours the day before and this morning. Once the girl had memorized her part, Grouter and WIllas had taken his uncle's boat to small cove a distance from the village on the pretext of fishing. They came back within a few hours to initiate the mummers' show that was now taking place in front of a captive audience.

"Ah," said Morei, nonchalantly, "How many Crows were there?" "Just four," she replied, "A couple of rapists, a thief and one man who was just so poor he was going to the black for the eatin'. Stibbins was his name; nice fella. He told his wife to leave him because he was doin' no good for as a husband ought." This made Grouter clinch his teeth; that had not been part of the story they rehearsed. Too late to scold the girl now, he thought to himself. Hopefully she's a better liar than a thief. "Four men? Who was the brother in White Harbor that arranged their voyage?" Hah! Thought of that one too, ya cheeky bastard. "Wasn't no brother. Father was just taking salt and coal up to Eastwatch when the Merman's turnkey brought them over. Gave some stags to Da for their passage and that was all there was. "

Morei continued his inquiry. "How come a girl like you ain't married yet?" A grimace crept on Grouter's face. This was a line of questioning all three had not anticipated, and he felt the fool for how obvious it would arise. The girl was young, about 15 years, judging by what the two fishermen had gleaned from her, but flowered and of suitable means and disposition to marry, if her story was to be taken at face value. Glancing at Willas, Grouter could see the discomfort in his partner's face that mirrored his own.

Once more, Maggy surprised the both of them. "Well, ser, I had me a sweety, I did, and…," she paused, adding tension to the moment that would be natural to a mummer but should not have come from some wildling girl, "he got me in a family way. He had promised we would marry but when the tides came he was out with another ship. After that, no one would take me for the shame." Maggy began to dab at tears that, to the other villagers at least, threatened to spill. Grouter looked on in admiration. Clever girl, he thought. I suppose she's had to put on charades like this before.

The questioning went on a bit like that for a while. The erstwhile captain's daughter laid out the story that he and Willas had come up with in the hours of the early dawn. Although Morei never did seem entirely convinced of it, he finally resigned himself to the notion that Maggy was merely the now an orphan her father having lost his life along with all others aboard when it had run across hidden shoals a day ago. "Alright girl, that's enough for today," Morei said, a small note of surrender in his voice. "We'll see if a raven can be sent to White Harbor the next time we're at Eastwatch. Your family will want to know what's happened, and look for a way to send ya home. For now, we'll see to getting you a proper place to sleep."

At this Willas chimed in. "She could stay at our place. Mum could look after her while I'm at sea. She ain't had another women to care for the house since my sister Beatris married that fella from Last Heart." Morei said nothing but squinted at Willas, suspicion in his eye. "Would you be alright with this, Maggy?" he asked. The wildling girl made a face as if she were truly pondering the question, and acquiesced. With a shrug, the headman dismissed the assembly. As Grouter turned to go, Morei stopped him with an open palm and waited till the others left. "If that girl's from White Harbor, I'm the Smith himself. Where'd you find her, boy?"

Grouter's face was passive but a cold sweat crept up his back. "On the beach, like I said. Willas and I were gathering clams and we saw her trying to build a fire from the driftwood. Poor girl was covered in rags." The grimace on Morei's face could've been carved out of stone. "I don't know what kind of arrangement you have with that girl, but if I find out she's a wildling you'll be manning the Wall. You and Willas. I won't have the village's safety jeopardized so the two of you can have a bed warmer." Grouter almost laughed but had the presence of mind to suppress it, shaking his head. "I don't fancy the idea of having a spear wife, Morei. She won't be any trouble, my word to you," he replied. Morei gave him a look that said Grouter's word had as much worth as a pile of dog muck, but he gave him a curt nod and left the little hall. Not wanting to chance his luck further, Grouter left swiftly afterward.

The smoke of a cookfire filled Willas' little cottage that night. Above the flames hung a black pot of sea bass, boiling in a red broth mixed with a pinch of ground dragon pepper added which would give the meal a spicy flavor, perfect for icy weather. It dragon peppers were luxury this far North; Grouter had bought a small handful of them from a Dornish sailor a few months ago for relatively cheap, and offered it to Willas' mother, Una, as a piece offering for putting up Maggy. This along with a jug of mulled wine had finally secured the girl a straw mat in the loft of the cottage. It helped that she, like Willas, was unmarried, and as Maggy helped Una prepare dinner Grouter could hear the elder woman bragging about how handsome her boy was, and how Maggy should be settling down with a decent man and not risking her life on sea voyages. This for the good, as Una gave no objections when the boys took Maggy out, saying that they were simply going to show her around the village. They headed instead to the dock, making similar excuses to the town guard that night as they went aboard the _Merry Maid_.

The little wooden cabin was cramped with all three inside. Willas lit a small glass lamp and warmth spread over them as they crowded together. Grouter reached into a pouch and came out with the necklace. The light played on the gem's facets, the green glow amplified by the candle, shining sparkling light unto the three faces. "Tell about this silent place, Maggy. The place where you got this from." She looked down for a moment, tension briefly playing across her face. She spoke in a quiet voice. "My brother, Stethen, he's the chief our kin. We'd been hunting in the Haunted Forest. No ghosts there but plenty of game. It was Horlow, by brother's man who found it. He and Scowler had gone hunting an elk herd for a few days. Got pretty far North and lost the herd, so they went to fish and stumbled on it. Said he got some pretty stuff from a place by the sea. Said nobody else was around. Nobody. All ripe for the taking." Willas passed her a skin of wine he had brought with him. Grouter smirked; the whole of dinner Willas had been chatting up the girl, telling her every story he knew and all about life at sea while she slurped the broth greedily. Who knows, he thought to himself, maybe Una will get a grandchild out of all of this. Maggy continued. "My folk, there's about twenty of us, we decided we could go there and see what worth digging out. Might've been we'd find some good weapons, or at the very least something to trade with others." The cabin groaned and moaned as the evening tide rocked the boat. "It was place, all crumbled stone and ruin. Like Horlow said, nobody around. Not any animals either, not big ones at least. Couldn't barely see it at first because of all the water smoke." "Water smoke?" said Willas. "Aye," she replied, "the water was so warm. Looked like clouds rising out of it." Hot springs, thought Grouter. He had been to one up in the mountains once, when he went with his uncle to trade with the clans. The men up there had said that it was heated by the breath of a dragon that slept beneath the earth. The idea had almost made him too afraid to slip into the water, lest it wake and eat him. Another notion prompted him; he had heard of ruins up North. "You're talking of Hardhome," he said. Even down here they had heard of the place. The Watch had talked of the place sometimes. An abandoned wildling settlement by the Shivering Sea. The black brothers had said it had been the only true town North of the Wall, till long ago when Skagosi had burned it to the ground. Doubtless it was picked clean of any treasure.

To his surprise Maggy shook her head. "We never go to Hardhome. My mum used to say it was a cursed place. The place Harlow took was on the opposite side, the other jut of the bay." She took another sip of the wine, and then simply stared at the skin as she became lost in thought. He prompted her again. "You said the place was a bunch of ruins?" She brought her head up in surprise, being raised so suddenly from the depths of her dream. "It was in the cliffs, carved in the rocks. Stone houses and big pillars and holes all around the place. Holes not put there by the gods. There were statues there too, all ugly. Never seen like of those before." Curiosity burned within him. "What did they look?" Grouter pressed, oblivious to the fear the subject was putting into the girl.

She made no reply, her eyes instead flicking to the bejeweled treasure in his hand, the eel-like face seemingly staring back at her with its hollow eyes.

Willas finally spoke up. "Did you find any treasure?" he asked, conveniently steering the conversation back to more pleasant waters. "Aye," she replied, adding a nod for emphasis. "We didn't find anything useful, but there was stuff like that and some gold coins as well. We spent the day finding the little trinkets here and there in the rocks. We decided to stay for the night and look for more in the caves the next day." A smile crept over Grouter's face, and he looked to see one spreading over Willa's as well. Gold and more, all of it lying around in the light of the sun! There had to more in those caves, much more! Lost in a fever dream, it took him a minute to comprehend Maggy's words as she spoke of the next day.

"…but we couldn't find him anywhere. The tracks led to the beach but from there we had no sign of him." Grouter shook himself out of his visions. "Come again?" he inquired. "Horlow," she answered, the look of fear more pronounced on her face. "He gotten up in the middle of the night. The moon was out and he said he was going to warm himself in the waters and find some crabs and turtle eggs for breakfast. It was near of end of my watch and I told Stonehands about it when he took over. But Horlow never came back! We tracked him to the beach but we couldn't find any other mark of him after that. It was like he just walked into the waves and never came back. Stonehands said he must've drown but Horlow was a good swimmer, and if he went swimming where were his clothes!"

"We came back to the cliffs later and…well the tide was up so couldn't get into any of 'em. We left that day, didn't go into those holes. My brother didn't want to spend the night there and neither did most of the others." She clutched the skin in her had some more, despite the fact that it was empty. "We figured we had plenty of gold anyway. Enough to go South. Most of our staying around beyond the Wall, but me, Stethen and a couple of the others made to cross the bay on small boats." A mournful sigh escaped her. "I ain't seen none of them since."

Willas patted her hand in solemn reassurance. His partner's hands were busy playing with the necklace as he pondered Maggy's words. Her folk still had some of the gold, and there was probably more in the caves. It wouldn't be a long voyage, provided he had the right crew. There and back and he need not ever look at fish again, not even on his dinner bowl.

"Maggy, my girl," he finally said, bring the attention of the other two back to him, "you ever heard of Dorne?" She nodded vigorously. "Aye. They say it never snows in Dorne. The people walk around naked all day for the heat." Grouter laughed, pocketing the bejeweled wonder and looked at her with a gleam in his eye. "We'll find out if that's true, my promise to you." Worry vanished from her face, replaced with the beginnings of a smile. "You really will take me to Dorne?" He nodded. "All three of us. But before that, we'll need to endure the snow one last time."


	3. Chapter 3

The Smuggler's Tale, Chapter 3

The _Sea Snake_ had plowed the waters from the Fingers to the Bay of Seals for nearly a year now. Its captain, a Myrish man, preferred sailing between King's Landing and his native city, but Dragonstone's rebellion against the crown had made traffic between the two cities prey to pirates and sell sails. Saego Luff counted it fortunate that most of the fighting was in the North and the Riverlands. The waters of the Bite and the Shivering Sea were still relatively open to trade. Nevertheless he was made poorer by the lawlessness in the South. The most profitable ports where there but were increasingly dangerous. Essos too was now becoming engulfed in flames. Anarchy in Qarth, slave revolts in Astapor and Yunkai, even his native Myr was rumored to be on the verge of war with Tyrosh and Lys. The Summer Isles hadn't avoided the troubles either; he had heard in a Bravoosi winesink that Tall Trees Town had been raided. Luff thought of his friend, Jaro, the dark skinned Summer Islander who had introduced him to his future wife, Nyla. Their friendship had been one of mutual profit and comradery. He had bought spices and exotic silks from the island merchant for years. Luff decided that when Spring came he would visit the islands again and see what had become of his friend. Nyla would want to know, though he didn't know how to break the news to her if the worse were true. The captain dismissed the thought; the issue could wait till after they survived this winter. If they survived.

His crew were busy bringing the sails down as they approached the lonely village. Some cursed the cold weather in Ibbenese, Tyroshi and a clutch of other languages while they worked, but Luff had never worried about land wars causing fights among seamen. A sailor's true country was the sea, and his king was the captain. The sail cloth was lashed secure and much of the crew went below to man the ores as he pondered how long he would remain their king. Working the Northern lanes would impoverish him if the war kept up. The North of Westeros, never a rich before was even more so lacking in worthy trade. The war had gone badly for the Northern men, with their king dead and many noble houses filling graves as well. It would be worse after Winter, when starvation would take it's toll. The _Sea Snake_'sonly cargo included corn from the Vale, with salted fish from the Bay of Crabs which they added to here and there from the sparse fishing villages along the coast when the small folk were willing to sell. Thacker's End would be their last stop prior to Eastwatch. Though not well coined, the Watch could be counted on to pay for their cargo, or at least call upon the Iron Throne's credit with the Iron Bank. Still, Luff was barely able to pay his crew, and the ship would need more refitting than he could presently afford. It was of some comfort that he had more to sell than corn.

When last the _Sea Snake_ had come to call upon Thacker's End, the captain had been met by a young fisherman, who had an intriguing proposition. The boy had shown Luff a strange necklace, glittering green with an emerald inset in a fish's head. Rather than ask coin for the queer object, the boy had proposed a bartering of goods on his return trip. The gem alone would cover his cost, so Luff readily agreed. The fisherman's price wasn't steep at all, given that what he wanted was readily in supply due to high toll the war had taken, and Luff had easily secured it at White Harbor.

A cry came from the crow's nest. "Point sighted off the port bow," shouted J'ric, one of his Ibbenese sailors. His first mate piloted the ship towards the little cove that enshrouded the fishing village, and with hurried trimming of the sails and drop of the anchor, the _Sea Snake_ was set to take on cargo and provisions. Thacker's End had no proper dock for a ship like his, so he sent out men on the runabout to head to shore for provisions and buy up fish stock to take aboard. Not that he would have to wait long, he reflected. Already the inlet's fisherman were rowing their boats up to his ship, their fresh ware's for sale and decent coin for the odds and ends that they could knacker off the ship's sailors. Saego could see one already bargaining with one of his oresman for a skin of palm wine. Bad news floated up from the fisherman that the tavern was completely dry. It was just as well, thought Saego. They should be getting on to Eastwatch anyway, before the weather turned sour. Winter was coming and he did not relish the churn of the sea when the weather was so frosty. Just one more run, he thought to himself. One more and I'll never see the ugly face of the North for a long time.

And, he thought anticipantly, if I can can snag that lovely piece away from the fisher. The boy hadn't turned up yet, and Saego gave thought to putting a small boat to shore to inquire after him. "Give him time," he cautioned to himself, "We've just gotten here and the boy may be out for a bit. We've still got plenty to do before we raise sail." That was true enough. While negotiations for various sundries took place between the villagers and the crew, he set the rest of the sailors to work upon the usual tasks of the ship. Here a man was sewing a few rents in the jib while others went below to tar holes in the hold. After an hour his skipper returned with barrels of fresh water, salt and salted fish. Once these were aboard he took some of the crew flay the fresh catch and salt it for storage. As their respective business was concluded and bargains fulfilled, the fishing boats retreated once more to leave the _Sea Snake_ alone in the cove. The sun had begun to dim and his worries grew till at last he caught sight of one last fishing boat coming towards them, with a familiar face onboard.

"Captain Luff," said Grouter, greeting the mariner with a warm smile and a firm handshake. Saego returned the handshake and nodded in greeting, but did not smile. He could see that boy had brought along salted cod of his own, which he and a companion had lugged aboard the ship. The ship's first mate put coin in his hand for the fish, but afterwards Saego escorted the two to his cabin. He trusted his crew well enough, but Saego Luff was not fool enough buy something as valuable as the necklace in fool view of a bunch of sailors. Even with a ship has small as his there would be plenty of opportunities for a thief to steal the bauble.

Inside the squat little cabin was room enough for a captain. A small desk, nailed to deck with a chair and candle, trunks and a little cot made for his living quarters. It wasn't much, but certainly more than what could be had below decks by the rest of his men. On the floor was a long bundle of canvas, the flaps tied together with hemp rope. "Our cargo?" the fisherman asked, pointing at it. "Indeed," Saego replied, and with a small flourish untied the bundle. A wink of sharp iron and a faint smell of copper came forth. "So many dead man on the battlefield these days, you can get yourself a lovely blade for healthy chicken. Chickens these days are rarer than swords." Both of the young men took one of the implements in their hands, turning the over in the hands, a gleam in their eyes that would not be misplaced in that of a little boy's. "I trust these will satisfy?" he inquired, though he knew for sure it would. "Aye," the first one responded, placing the sword he had picked up back amongst the stack and tying up the bundle again. He then fished out a pouch from around his neck. Untying the closing string, he pulled from it the promised necklace, its faint green glow filling the captain's eyes and puting a smile on his face. The boy's own stared at it hungrily for second, as if the thing would not let him part with it so easily. Nevertheless, he mustered his resolve to complete the trade. "Payment in full," the boy said cheerfully, and plunked it into his hands.

Night fell on the village, and as the fire warmed his uncles house Grouter, Willas and Maggy went through the weapons one by one. Brer was out on another trip, accompanying Septon Pol on his circuit to attend the villages of the Gift. The old holy man, whose infirmities had become more pronounced at his return to the village, had been a godsend to Grouter. Unlike the young man, his uncle was faithful to the Seven, and fancied himself half a septon in his devotions. Brer would always lead the village in prayer and in song during services. Thus, when Grouter suggested his uncle help the old priest on his journey, it had met with the full approval of the village. Brer had always been pushover, and the praise and encouragement of the villagers combined with his own piety shattered any argument he might have had against the appointment. He wouldn't return for half a year, freeing Grouter from his uncle's prying eyes.

The trio was able to look over the weapons without fear of discovery. Some hand dents or stains on them, others they would have to sharpen with a whetstone, but all in all the trader had come through for them. Willas had a perplexed look on his face as he play fought with a short falchion in his right hand. "You sure about this? I mean…them wildings ain't smart, but I doubt even then they'd be foolish enough to give up gold for cheap iron." Grouter examined the hilt of a broadsword and then answered. "Gold's only worth what you're willing to pay. There are no blacksmiths North of the Wall. Never seen one or heard of a wildling with anything better than a bronze axe. What we have is more valuable than gold to them. They'll part it easy enough with the jewels for these, right Maggy?" The wilding girl turned away from the fire, which she had be crouching before to warm her hands. "It's true. My folk would kill for a decent sword like that beyond the Wall. They'll trade easy for this stuff."

She had said as much that night nearly a month ago, and for the rest of the time she played the part of the shipwrecked girl. Word had be sent to White Harbor inquiring about Maggy's family, with no positive news returning. Despite this the girl was able to ingratiate herself with the rest of the villagers. She watched over Karl Turner's young-ins while he was at sea, gossiped with the old wives while they knitted wool, and made careful flirtations with the rest of the village boys, though not as overt as to call into questions her supposed designs on Willas. As according to plan, Willas made a small show of accompanying Maggy out at night, just enough to draw folks' eyes and attract gossip among to the village women. Keep them clucking like hens about a little scandal, Grouter had told them when he put the plan together, and they'll forget they ever thought she was a wildling.

Not that they needed any encouragement. In the weeks after Grouter had made his trade to the Bravoosi captain, Willas had taken a real shine to the girl, and Maggy returned his affections. It wasn't a thing totally unexpected, but Grouter found himself still surprised when he caught them having a roll in the cabin of his uncle's boat. Though it was all for the best, he thought, more primitive parts of him gave a twinge of jealousy. The same feeling came back later that night, after they had placed the bundle of weapons in a hidden store room underneath the floor of the house. As he left the house to put another piece of the plan together, he knew that the two of them would sneak back to uncle's room romp away the hours. Grouter pushed his own lusty thoughts of what would transpire away and made for Marten Barrow's house.

"Beyond the Wall?" Marten Barrow guffawed, spilling a bit of the wine that Grouter had brought along to ply the elder fisherman with that night, as well as another skin for himself. The two of them now sat before the fire in Marten's house. His was at the tavern, which was all the better for what Grouter needed to do tonight. It had been necessary for Grouter to withhold where the treasure lay, till now. As in his trade, in order to snag the big fish Grouter knew he had to string Barrow along a bit. Let him fill his head with dreams of gold and all that which it could provide before the older man had felt the hook. Mentioning that these riches where in wildling territory would've scared Marten away, and Marten was essential to the plan. At least his boat, the _Lovely Bess_, would be. There was no way _Merry Mermaid_ would ever be able to go as far North as Grouter needed it to. Not safely and not with enough room to carry back all he intended to claim. _Lovely Bess_ was the proud property of Marten Barrow, and though by standards outside of the Gift he was not a rich man, in Thacker's End it made him one of considerable influence. The sturdy vessel could bring in entire schools of fish, and his catch set the price for all fishmongers in the village. Its hold would be big enough to for the crew Marten needed to get North and enough of the treasure to fill the pockets of every man on the venture with gold. That was the reason why he had shown Barrow the necklace before the trade with Captain Luff. The old sailor's eyes had been agog and for a long time while he had turned the trinket over and over his hand. He was remiss when the boy had rebuffed his offer to buy the necklace, yet a remedy was quick in coming. Grouter assured Marten there was more to be had. What was needed was a boat to make the journey, he told Barrow, and a crew to man her that could be trusted. Grouter would bring Willas, and Lon Ballard. Ballard himself had been caught by Willas buggering a sheep the year before, but had given the blubbering simpleton a solid oath that he wouldn't tell anyone. This had left the whole village the curious as to why Willas would break out in fits of laughter for days after that whenever the bleeting of a lamb could be heard. Now Ballard would pay back the favor, and even earn a small share himself. With three men on his side, Grouter would in good position to assure that Marten and his son didn't try alter the deal once the voyage underway.

None of that, of course, he told to Marten. "Aye. The girl's a wilding." Barrow's eyebrows rose in shock. "She and her folk have already go a bit of it on them. Its treasure of the First Men. All those castles and such that they put there before Bran built the Wall. We can trade weapons for gold and then make our way along the coast to where the rest of it lies."

Barrow's faced paled a bit. "You're mad! Give them savages weapons? If they don't slit our throats right off, we'll be sent to the Watch if anyone finds out! And sailing that far North? Madness!"

Grouter too another swig of wine. The inebriation help steady his nerves, but he had expected these objections. His face remained cordial and untroubled in reply. "We'll have plenty of weapons left over to protect ourselves. Anyways, Maggy and I will go over first in _Bess's_ rowboat and parlay with the natives till we have a deal. She and I will bring the weapons to shore once the deal's struck and bring back what they've got. You and the rest of the crew will be safe on the boat. After that we'll hug the coast till we get to this 'smoke water' place where it's all at. Nothin' but easy pickings once we get there." He let the words work slow magic over himself and the other man. "If anybody asks we'll say we picked it up from another shipwreck."

"You could replace a man's blood with summerwine and he'd never be drunk enough to believe a lark like that!" Barrow blurted with exasperation, burping a bit of his own wine out to follow his words. Keeping his smile like stone, the younger man patted his shoulder. "No one will know the truth for sure. Course people are gonna gossip; that's what we do around here. Tongues waggle like the tails of dogs, but no one of us talks and no one else will be the wiser. Even if they did, we've got swords now and the means to buy others to our cause. And if the village made you headman next year, you'd wouldn't fear anything to fear!" That particular arrow met its mark, a faint gleam coming to Barrow's eyes. It was a custom here in the North, outside the prerogative of lords and ladies, that the patriarchs of the village to vote its headman. Despite his family's prosperity, when Marten had put forth his own name for the position after the death of the previous one, he had been defeated by Morei Drenn, who was the more trustworthy of the candidates. Taking the loss as grievous humiliation, Marten had been sore about it ever since. Headmen usually served for life, but the village could always hail another if enough of the households chose to do so. Grouter could imagine Barrow already silently contemplating how golden dragons in the right purse could do just that.

Barrow turned from his thoughts back to Grouter. "And the Watch?" Grouter smirked. "We wouldn't be the first smugglers ever to pull something like this off. Back when Hardhome was still around you had folks trading with them all the time. It was good money in lean times, and the Watch ain't what it used to be. Nothin' but thieves and rapists who couldn't care less what we do here. Even if they did, there's hardly enough of them to do anything about it!" He drank up the last dregs of his own wineskin and popped its cork back in dramatically as if to seal any further objections. He could see color returning to Barrow's face, and the worry leave it. His own began to wash away and was replaced by giddy anticipation for the adventure ahead. "We live but once upon this earth, and when the Lady of Fortune smile's on us," he said, clapping both hands on the other's shoulders, "we have to give her a lusty kiss! Else, we shall spend our days forever pining for what could've been." This brought a smile to Barrow's face, followed closely by a hearty chuckle that Grouter echoed.

"When do we sail?" he asked.

"When can you make ready?" Grouter replied.


End file.
